


A Long Day Without You

by samalander



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Implied miscarriage, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Put that timeline back where it came from or so help me, Slice of Life, godly intervention, pan tract, sizzle it up with taako!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander
Summary: Magnus Burnsides is happy; he has a wife who loves him, a shop that is the jewel of the craftsman's corridor, and a city that adores him. He just can't stop dreaming about a life of adventure, a life of trials, a life he's never lived.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Yassan! I hope this hits right in the sweet spot of funny-and-feelsy. 
> 
> I played a little with what the Chalice offered, and the rules it made. But I also have to assume that, as a grand relic, it was lying a little.
> 
> Please see the End Notes for specific warnings.
> 
> Thanks to Michelle for the beta.
> 
>  _It's been a long day without you, my friend_  
>  _And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again_  
>  _We've come a long way from where we began_  
>  _Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again_  
>  _When I see you again_ \- Wiz Khalifa, See You Again

Magnus Burnsides wakes in the morning light, his head racing with a dream he can't shake. Fire and crystal and purple worms dance at the sides of his memory, taunting him, tempting him forward.

He rolls over with a soft grunt, reaching reflexively for the other side of the bed.

It's empty, but not cold, and Magnus sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Jules?"

He pulls on a pair of fantasy sweatpants, enchanted to look far more fancy than they actually feel, and heads to the kitchen, a dim hope of coffee and maybe an egg.

His wife is at the stove, her long brown hair swinging as she turns to look at him.

"Good morning, you big bear," she says, and Magnus grins at her, leaning towards her to kiss her cheek.

"Good morning, you sweet, uh--" He hesitates, running through animals in his head. "Wyvern?"

Julia's laughter is like bells, sweet and simple, and Magnus can't help but smile back at her when he hears it. She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

"There's coffee," she says. "And I'm making some sandwiches for the trip."

Magnus raises an eyebrow as the domesticity of the scene comes into stark relief. "You're cooking," he says, trying not to sound too surprised. "Is something wrong? Are you dying? Am I dying?" He scowls. "Is this a plot to kill me with raw chicken? Again?"

Julia rolls her eyes at him. "We both know you're stronger than raw chicken," she says. "Anyway, why would I try the same plot twice? When I kill you, I want you to be surprised."

"Right," Magnus nods, sipping his coffee. "So you're cooking because?"

"Someone--" Julia gives him a pointed look. "Has a big trip to go on to show off some ugly chair he's making. I think he's due to leave this afternoon?"

Magnus chuckles. "I'd heard that."

"And I thought it would be nice to make daddy a dinner for the road, cause lord knows he's likely to eat a cold can of beans next to a pitiful fire if I don't."

"What's wrong with beans?" Magnus asks, but he knows she's right. Steven is many things, and Magnus loves him without reservation or hesitation. But he's even less of a chef than his daughter, and if he's going off to Neverwinter, then the least Magnus and Julia can do is try to stop him from giving himself dysentery or the fantasy runs on the way.

"Plus," Julia grins. "If I kill _him_ with raw chicken, then you get the shop. So, win-win."

Magnus can't help but laugh. _Fuck_ , he thinks. _I'm a lucky son of a bitch._

* * *

"I had a weird dream last night," Magnus tells Steven when he gets to the shop. "About magic artifacts, and a secret base on the moon."

Steven thinks for a moment, applying a few dabs of oil to the leg of his chair. "Is that so?"

"I was an adventurer," Magnus says. "And Julia had died."

That gets Steven's attention, and he stands to look at Magnus. "She's not dead, son."

"No," Magnus nods. "No, I know but--"

"What happened was a damn tragedy," Steven touches Magnus' shoulder gently, meeting his eyes. "It hurts to lose one, no matter how early on it is. But you didn't lose _her_ and you don't have to go on an adventure to bring her back, or whatever."

Magnus nods. He's right. This is anxiety, this is mourning for the baby they didn't have. It was a dream; it will pass.

* * *

They see Steven off together, Julia grinning at her father like she's the proud parent as he loads up his award-worthy chair and sets off down the bridge out of Raven's Roost.

He's gone for seven days, and then he comes back. Nothing happens of note; nothing of note has happened in Raven's Roost since Callen died. And that's pretty much the way Magnus likes it.

* * *

Magnus dreams most nights, but he barely holds onto them. It's like there's another life to live in sleeping, one with artifacts and adventures, fights and fancy, and a goldfish that lives in his pocket.

His birthday comes in midsummer, a day that starts with Julia bringing him coffee in bed and cuddling him while he drinks it. The world is almost perfect, in those moments.

Julia takes his hand. He smiles at the feel of her skin, the smoothness of her ring, studying how his skin is so pale against hers. "I have a surprise for you," she says. 

Magnus loves her surprises, he loves that she wants to surprise him. "Did you get me a dog?" he asks.

"No," she says. "Where would we keep a dog?"

Magnus shrugs. "On the moon, I guess. I hear there are no dogs on the moon."

"You're taking me out tonight," she says, almost as if she isn't indulging him in any flights of fancy about moon dogs. "Because I've been sad, and I deserve a night out. And something about you. I forget what. Is it-- is today your bar mitsvah? Our anniversary?"

"If you're sad, I could make you a rabbit. To cheer you up," he offers. "A nice wooden rabbit, and you can keep it on the moon with our puppy."

Julia pretends to scowl at him. "Morokō," she tells him. "I have enough rabbits. You need to make fewer rabbits. Make me something else. Like-- like a duck."

A vision spears Magnus for a moment; _A workshop that isn't his. Two solid dragon-born hands, working wood. An object for him to inspect. A duck with no head, just two butts. Duck butts, stuck together._

"You want a duck?" he says, trying to blink away the feelings the vision has given him, the odd warmth he feels towards a person who probably isn't real. "I'll' make you a duck. A thousand ducks. A whole flock."

Julia chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder. "No," she says. "Tonight we're going to a show. There's a chef in town, an Elven traveler. They say he's a real magician with spices. And I know how much you love magic."

"What time?" Magnus asks, trying to shake the deja vu feeling that seems to have settled into the base of his spine.

"Six," she tells him. "Dinner is the show."

Magnus nods, thinking of the stack of orders he and Steven have at the shop. "I do have to do some work today--"

"On your birthday?" Julia pouts, giving her best puppy-dog eyes. Which Magnus, being Magnus, has trouble resisting.

"'ll be home at four," he promises. "And then we'll go see a chef."

* * *

Magnus has to give it to his wife; she picks good entertainment.

 _Sizzle it Up With Taako!_ is fun for the whole family, provided the whole family doesn't mind a dick joke or six, and delicious to boot. Magnus can't help but feel awed when the titular Taako uses a word of power to turn olive oil into vinegar, or when he changes the pork to beef.

"Magic is cool," Magnus whispers, as the tall elven chef produces a slim jet of fire from one finger, searing the beef.

Julia pats his hand, grinning. "I know," she whispers back. "But you're cooler."

"My dudes!" Taako announces, holding up one hand. "My dudes, dudettes, and dude-neutral individuals. Please. This part, requires great concentration!"

Magnus leans forward, wanting to catch every moment of this intense culinary experience. 

Taako takes out a bowl of milk and lays a cloth over the bowl. He whispers a few words before he pulls it away again, revealing a creamy, perfect hollandaise.

Magnus jumps to his feet, applauding.

* * *

The meal is as good to eat as it was fun to watch. The company, Magnus thinks, is even better. Julia tells him about what she wants to do when school starts up again; she's been working on her lesson plans and throwing herself into work.

It hurts Magnus, a little, to know how hard it must be to look forward to that school year. To have to deal with all the children, and know that they're not hers. Everyone knows what happened, of course, because they're Magnus and Julia and this is Raven's Roost. And most people are good to her, most people try to be kind. But there are still people who talk, people who go still and silent when she enters a room. When they're together, at least he can stand between her and the stares and whispers. At work, he won't be there to hold her, to tell her he loves her.

He starts to say something, opens his mouth to tell her that she doesn't have to go back, that he loves her, that she's perfect and beautiful and smart and kind. But he doesn't get the words out before a hand claps him on the shoulder.

"Hi," says the owner of the hand, who Magnus turns to look at. "I'm Taako. Did you like my show?"

Taako is tall, and slightly soft around the middle. Magnus can't help but feel that he's met this man before, that there's something he should be able to say, but his mind holds nothing but static.

"Magnus," he offers. "And this is Julia. We did. You're quite the showman."

Julia nods. "You," she says, leaning close, "are a master. Just-- tell me, do you give private lessons?"

"Afraid not, my dude," Taako says. "But there's a cookbook we sell for five gold. And hey, I'll sign it for you."

"Oh!" Julia grins, and reaches for her pouch. "Yes! Yes, please!"

Magnus watches her, feeling the same love and warmth he did a few minutes ago. Taako scribbles in the book before handing it over, smiles and shakes Magnus' hand before taking his leave of the table.

Julia scowls at the book before handing it to Magnus. "What do you think this means?"

_Julia, Remember what the Voidfish told The Director; you have to give it up if you're going to make it right. Keep twerking in the free world! Taako_

Magnus barely suppresses the shudder that runs up his spine, the feeling of eyes in the back of his head and the ache of deja vu almost too much to cope with. He closes the book and hands it back to his wife.

"That guy is weird," Magnus shrugs. "Pretty sure it's nonsense."

She nods, watching his face intently. "Sure," Julia says, but Magnus has a dim sense that the conversation isn't over.

* * *

The summer seems to fly; there's work enough at the shop, and a few weeks before school is due to start for the fall, he comes home to find Julia in front of an easel, painting something with a smile on her face. She hasn't touched a brush for months, he knows. She hasn't even gone into the room she uses as a studio. Seeing her there is a flush of warmth in his chest, a reminder of what she looks like when she's happy. He couldn't love her more.

* * *

There's a little man on the corner of the street as Magnus and Julia walk home from the fall carnival.

No, not a man. A dwarf. He's wearing cleric's robes in the pale green of a nature god, and waving around a book as he shouts.

"Teenagers repent! Come unto Pan!"

Julia take's Magnus' arm, moving her body closer to him, Maybe she's scared, or just uncomfortable. They don't get a lot of street preachers in Raven's Roost-- Magnus has only ever seen them in Neverwinter and Phandalin when he and Steven have gone on work trips.

The dwarf thrusts a paper at Magnus. "Take a Pan tract, my brother!" he insists, and Magnus, again beset with the throbbing deja vu of a memory forgotten, accepts the paper without thinking and shoves it into his pocket.

It isn't until he's getting undressed that night that he remembers it, and pulls out the crumbled pamphlet as Julia washes her face.

The title freaks him out, but when Magnus tries to understand the words, tries to contemplate what they might mean, he just comes up with blankness and static.

 _Pan the Man! Or, Why You Shouldn't Take Offers From Weird Cups You Find In Mines, Magnus Burnsides._

He stashes the paper in his toolbox and decides not to tell Julia. No use in worrying her further.

The next day he goes to look for the dwarf, but he's long gone.

* * *

Magnus spends the fall dreaming a series of confusing images, a flat circle of black glass and a man with a tree for an arm and a woman with a dark, serious face, a jellyfish that sings as it flashes with light, an old woman who is also a little girl, an elf and a dwarf and that same purple worm. 

The days are no better; anything can give him that dizzy sense of a life he never lived. He feels it in the market, when he's haggling for goods. He feels it in his workshop, when one of the town elders buys a carved fish. He even feels it when Julia brings home a box of cookies one of her students made for her, slim things with some kind of cream in the center. They taste like elderflower and make Magnus homesick for a place he's never been.

It's nearly candlenights when the boy appears.

Magnus goes to work like normal and spends the morning carving a gentle, rolling pattern into what will become the side of a table. It's easy to lose himself in the movement of the wood, in the familiar way the tools fit into his hands. Steven is in Phandalin, delivering an order of shelves to a tavern, so Magnus has the shop to himself. The solitude, the repetition, the base of happiness that radiates from the Hammer and Tongs lull Magnus into a trance-like state. He falls into the work, forgetting his dreams and his deja vu, letting go of the dwarf and the elf and the moon and the strange messages.

Magnus is so into his work that he doesn't hear it when the bell over the door rings, and it isn't until the voice behind him speaks that he even registers that he's not alone any longer.

"Hello, sir."

Magnus doesn't jump, just jerks his hands back from the table. Behind him is a small, fancy boy, no more than ten. He's dressed in what Magnus can only comprehend as a uniform, the kind that richer kids wear to their daily lessons.

"Hail and well met, young master fancy boy," Magnus says, giving his best smile. "Welcome to the Hammer and Tongs."

"Hello," the boy says, fidgeting. "My name is Angus McDonald. You don't know me, but I know you. I'm the greatest living detective, and your life is in danger."

Magnus nods and sets down his tools. On some level, he thinks, he's been waiting for this visit. He's known it was coming for a long time. "Sounds about right."

* * *

The little boy's feet don't touch the ground and he kicks them against the rungs of the chair he's sitting in as Magnus makes tea in the back of the Hammer and Tongs. It makes him seem younger, somehow.

"So," says Magnus, when they're both seated. "Where is Callen?

Angus cocks his head to the side. "I don't know who that is, sir, but if you've lost someone--"

Magnus shakes his head. "He's probably dead, then. But, if Callen isn't trying to kill me, who is? Who else wants me dead?"

The boy has to think for a second, like he's gathering evidence in his mind. "Sir," he says at long last, "have you ever heard of a god named Istus?"

 _Istus_. He's never heard it before, but the name is familiar. Which is pretty much the new normal for Magnus. For some reason, it makes him think of knitting, of the way threads come together to form a fabric under a person's hands.

"No," he says.

"Neither had I!" Angus tells him, almost bouncing in excitement. "But she's a real god, and she came to see me and everything. It was very exciting, I'd never met a god before!"

Magnus is exactly as fond of this boy as he is annoyed by him, which is, at least, a new sensation. "And?"

"Oh, right!" Angus reaches into his bag and pulls out an amulet. "This is her sigil. She came to me, and she said you were a devotee of hers who went astray, and she's been trying to get you back."

"No," Magnus shakes his head. "I don't-- I mean, I never--" He feels sick to his stomach, like the room is moving and he can't make it stop. There's truth in the words. There's truth, and it hurts. "Why doesn't she come to me directly?"

"She's a god, sir," Angus says gently. "That's not really how they do it."

"Why did she send you?"

That earns him another pause as the kid puzzles out the right answer. "I think-- I think, sir, she knows that we knew each other. In another plane. And she said she'd sent others."

Magnus knows, in the way he knows how to use a lathe or an adze, that they're talking about the cookbook and the pamphlet. The voidfish and the director and the strange cups in mines.

"Why now?"

Angus looks suddenly sad. "Because you're running out of time. Something is about to happen. Something bad. And you need to be there to stop it. It wasn't-- it's early, she said. It's not supposed to happen yet. But everything is--off."

"Off," Magnus repeats, trying to understand what he's being told. "Look, Angus. I'm sure you're a good kid, but--"

"But you don't believe me," he says. "Yeah, I get that a lot. It's hard to be a kid detective. Adults don't really want to trust me."

Magnus feels a pang of sorrow, regretting that the boy has had to deal with that. "That's tough and all--"

"Look, sir," says the kid. "I know. I know how it sounds, because I had to say it. But will you please come with me to the temple of the Raven Queen? It's not the same, exactly, but Lady Istus said that any temple to a god of fate--"

"Yeah," says Magnus, standing up. "Yeah, okay. Sure. I do that."

* * *

The temple of the Raven Queen is one of the jewels of Raven's Roost. It stands near the center of town, a spire that pierces the sky, visible from almost everywhere in the city. Magnus feels dizzy again as they approach.

"How did you find me?" he asks Angus, who is leading the way.

"You're not a hard man to find, sir," Angus replies, pausing at the door. "I can't go in with you. My part ends here."

"Thanks, Ango," Magnus says, tousling the kid’s hair. "I'll see you later?"

"Yes," Angus says. "I sure hope so."

Magnus opens the heavy black wood door and steps into the darkness of the sanctuary.

* * *

There's no one in the temple. Or maybe there is; it doesn't matter, because as soon as Magnus crosses the threshold, he knows he isn't in the temple of the Raven Queen.

"Lady Fate?" he calls into the dim glow, still walking forward. "Istus?"

"Hello, Magnus," says a voice that comes from nowhere and everywhere and maybe isn't anywhere but inside of his head. "Thank you for joining me."

The woman that appears is impossibly beautiful; she's got skin like the night sky, inky black with flecks of light somehow shining forward from her body. She's holding knitting needles, just like the last time Magnus saw her.

Though, when he tries to chase that thought, tries to remember the last time he met a god, all he finds is static.

She sits in the front pew, her face somehow old and young at the same time. Behind her, flanking her with blank stares, are the cooking elf and the evangelizing dwarf. Magnus knows them, too. Mostly from his dreams.

"I think you remember Merle Highchurch and Taako," she says. "Or you will."

"What is happening?" Magnus asks, his knees shaking slightly as he stands in front of the goddess.

Istus pats the pew next to her, gesturing for him to sit. He does.

"You were given a choice," she tells him, her hands still knitting the scarf in her lap. "I told you it would happen, but you still made the wrong one."

"When?" he asks, trying to remember.

"About six years from now," she says. "In a town called Refuge."

Magnus thinks this all sounds--and feels--familiar, but he doesn't have the memory.

And then she takes his hand, and the walls fall.

_he is returning from phandalin and raven's roost is an empty shell_

_he is watching a gnome named craig pin a list to a board in a tavern_

_a dwarf bursts into flames_

_he is falling through glass, towards a wizard he hardly knows and the orges that are menacing him_

_he is floating next to a train_

_two women at the base of a tree_

_crystals running up merle's arm, a panicked scream_

_the void fish touching the glass of its tank, reaching out to him_

_he dies, and he dies, and he dies_

* * *

When Magnus comes back to himself, he is crying. The tears are hot on his face, the whole world shaking as sobs wrack his body.

"That--" he gasps, looking at Istus. "What did I--"

"Shush," she says gently. "It only hurts because it was fast. There is still so much we need to do."

"I--" He swallows around the lump in his throat. "Julia. I had to--"

Julia steps out of the shadows in the cathedral, her skin rich and dark against the yellow fabric of her dress. "This chair smells like grandmas," she says, and Magnus starts to cry harder.

"Jules--"

She shushes him, taking the seat next to him. "Morokō, it's okay," she tells him. "You made a bad choice. But you get to put it right now."

Magnus shakes his head. "I can't lose you again," he whispers, reaching out to touch her cheek with his fingertips. "I can't."

"I don't want to be lost," she says, turning her head into his caress. "But you have to go do good. You can't give one life for thousands. That's-- that's not what I want."

Tears streak down her cheeks, matching his. Magnus takes her face between his hands and kisses her gently. "Jules. I-- I'm sorry."

"Don't," she says, softly. "Don't apologize. Just go and do the right thing. I'll see you again. Right, Lady Istus?"

Istus makes a noise of assent behind him. "You will," she agrees. "This is goodbye, but it is not forever."

"Are you sure?" he asks, staring into Julia's eyes, trying to see that she's ready for what happens next.

Her eyes are steely gray, stormy and dark. She nods once. "Yes. I love you, Magnus."

Magnus kisses her one last time. "I love you, Jules."

* * *

The world goes white, and Magnus is floating alone in the void.

"I wouldn't do this for anyone else," Istus' voice comes from nowhere. "But I'm putting you back in the timeline, in the moments before you make the choice. When you make the call, you'll forget this ever happened. You'll forget what you saw, the months you lived there. You won't carry the hurt."

"No," Magnus says. "Please. Leave it with me. Give me that. Give me just a few more months with Julia."

Istus doesn't reply, and slowly, the whiteness fades into the Davy Lamp, the chalice on the table, June asking for their decision.

"It's not what Julia would want," he says, casting his eyes down, and he feels the memory slipping from his mind. "I'm gonna have to take a pass."

* * *

The other offers are easier to turn down.

Fighting the worm isn't easy, but it happens, and they win.

Time goes back to normal, and the town ages.

And when Magnus goes down on his knees in the temple of Istus, he doesn't fully know why. All he knows is that he should be there, should be offering thanks to the Lady of Fate for seeing them through the adventure. 

And a part of his mind hears Julia's voice, floating like a wind. 

_Go and do the right thing. I'll see you again._

**Author's Note:**

> Specific Warnings: mention of past miscarriage, implied character death (canon-typical), characters who stop existing.


End file.
